


Year Two

by holdouttrout



Series: The Burn Apocalypse [2]
Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 10:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdouttrout/pseuds/holdouttrout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of "Year  One," in which Earth was decimated by some weird, unexplained,  convenient fire that came through the 'gate on a routine mission.  Hopefully a little more fun than the last one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Four Seasons

**Autumn**

Crawfordsville had offered them a home. They'd lost one of their families in a flash flood in the spring, earlier that year, and the house had stood vacant, a weak link in the circle of defense they'd planned out carefully.

Jack and Sam discussed it, knowing that the reasons for going were valid: more company, shared provisions, better protection against the bands of humans who had begun to roam even their remote corner of the world, the opportunity to help out people they hadn't been able to save.

It seemed like an easy decision. They both agreed. They were both unhappy, although neither could think of a good reason why.

Jack thought it was because he didn't really trust anyone, and that Crawfordsville was gaining more than they expected. The people of the makeshift town knew they were well-armed, but didn't know about the explosives, or the total quantity of weapons. They also didn't know the extent of his and Sam's experience, and he was nervous about that getting out. He had no way to know exactly what was coming through the 'gate these days, and wasn't naive enough to think the Ori were just going to leave them alone now.

Sam thought she simply felt guilty. She knew it wasn't really her fault, but she couldn't shake the idea that maybe, if she'd been faster, or smarter, or had that extra cup of coffee, they wouldn't be here now. She felt like her guilt would show and alienate her from the others.

And then there was the tension, which had mainly disappeared the year after the Burn. It was back, dwelling in every corner until a careless word, a brushed cheek brought it crackling between them. So far, Sam had turned away every time.

It was driving Jack nuts, and he knew that he was reaching his limit. He couldn't predict what would happen when he finally reached it, if he'd just shut down or if he'd throw her against the wall and kiss his way down her body in an attempt to break her, too. He was pretty sure that either option would be a Bad Idea.

For the week preceding the move, they circled around each other, packing, shifting possessions to the downstairs, settling into a comfortable rhythm created through years of stuffing packs, voicelessly dividing duties. The heat of late summer seemed to stifle conversation, so they didn't talk except at night, and then only about Daniel and the others, with a subtext of whether or not they'd been right to return here.

The heat broke two days before they planned to move.

Jack feigned enthusiasm. "Nice! Now we won't have to worry about heat stroke."

Sam feigned a smile.

Neither talked that night at dinner, and neither ate much.

In the middle of the night, Jack woke up. He opened his eyes and found Sam standing at his door. He knew she had been standing there, right inside the frame, for a while.

"Hey," he said, quietly, as if he might scare her off.

She shifted, her face hidden in shadows. She took one involuntary step forward.

"I-"

She moved closer, almost to his bed. He lay perfectly still.

"I don't want to go."

Jack sensed they were repeating a conversation once held with beer in his hand and a woman in his house. Like then, she kept talking, words spilling over one another in her haste.

"I know it's stupid, that the reasons to go far outweigh caution or, or inconvenience. I mean, we'd be around people, and as much as I l-" she swallowed, "like you, winter last year was pretty damn awful. Plus, we would be better off as far as provisions, and we'd be able to help, too. I can't explain it, can't give you a solid ex-"

He touched her face, and she stopped, her words dissipating in the moonlit coolness of the room.

She kissed him, and it was everything that might have happened three years ago, if things had been different.

He pulled her down, reflecting that, for once, he'd done the right thing. He'd always needed to let her come to him, and she had, finally. They could figure everything else out later.

**Winter**

Jack was pulling the sled when they came across the first body.

"Damn," Sam said, crouching down. The woman was dressed only in a pair of thin pants and a T-shirt. She lay face down, her left arm twisted into the snow as if she was trying to push herself up. She was barefoot.

"Don't touch her," Jack cautioned, but Sam just gave him an annoyed glance and stood back up. She found a tree branch and managed to roll the woman over. Her eyes were open, and Sam bent down, carefully not breathing. There was the characteristic aura around the iris.

"Fuck."

Jack sighed. "You know, you'd think the Ori got the memo: Earth destroyed by fire. Not worth the time."

A guilty look flitted across Sam's face, but was gone almost as soon as it had come.

She said, "At least this means they're not falling prostrate yet." She spoke with some pride at the thought that the Tau'ri, her people, the people of Earth, hadn't just given up their beliefs for the first false prophet to walk through the door.

Gate.

Whatever.

"Still wish they'd get the hell off my planet," Jack grumbled.

Sam gave him a small smile.

Two hours later, they reached what Jack referred to as "the bustling metropolis of Crawfordsville, Minnesota"—more accurately described as a small village of ragtag survivors Jack had come across in one of his summer forays. The whole village was quiet, and Sam and Jack knew they weren't going to find any survivors. They searched the whole town anyway.

They touched nothing, but when they had scoured each building from top to bottom, they lit a torch solemnly and set fire to everything that would burn. Sam flinched each time Jack lit another building but said nothing. Jack didn't even glance at her, although he was not unaware of her unease. It was the third time they'd done this.

On the way back to the cabin, their rustling gear, the crunching of their snowshoes, and the hissing noise the sled made were the only sounds they heard.

**Spring**

"You're early, Thor. I said a year."

"I apologize, O'Neill. We require your assistance. And that of Colonel Carter."

"Couldn't live without us, old buddy?" Jack glanced at Sam, who was on the other side of Thor, seeing as she'd been in the kitchen when Thor did his light show.

"Colonel Carter's expertise has been sorely missed."

Jack blinked. Sam grinned.

Jack said, "Thor…was that a joke? Because if it wasn't, my feelings would be quite hurt."

"I suppose you're ready to come back now, Jack? Had enough of a vacation?" Daniel was trying to sound bitter and sarcastic, but he was definitely looking at Sam and evaluating what he saw.

"Daniel, Daniel. I knew you'd understand. 'Sides, Sam thought you probably had things under control."

Daniel noted their easy stances, the way they…fitted together, the way they both looked comfortable with being on the ship, which they most decidedly had not the last time he'd seen them. He nodded slowly.

"Is that right?"

Sam opened her mouth to protest, but Jack interrupted.

"Yeah," he said casually. "She said she figured you could figure something out to keep the Ori occupied for a while. Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Seems one of those Priory things is loose on Earth. I'm kind of disappointed, actually."

Daniel started to protest, closed his mouth, and grimaced.

"Yeah, well, sorry to ruin your vacation, and sorry to let you down, but we could be in a lot of trouble here."

Jack shrugged. "I'm alright with another un-retirement. Besides, if you hadn't come today, we would have had to start planting. And, you know, that would have been a waste."

"What did you need me for?" Sam asked.

**Summer**

There was no SGC, no United States Air Force, and, so far as Jack knew, no Jell-O left in the galaxy. More than a few of the good people Jack had known, even some of the people he'd counted as friends, were dead.

On the plus side, he had his team back.

They also had their first real lead on a way to smash the Ori out of ascension and, if they were really lucky, out of existence.

Daniel's hair was getting long, and he pushed it back irritably while he explained the gist of his research to the group.

"Sam could probably figure it all out if you gave her a couple hundred years," he was saying. "And that's a compliment, by the way."

Jack snorted. "You're probably still underestimating Carter."

Daniel shrugged. "Maybe, but this stuff…Jack, it was created by an ascended being."

Vala looked at her hands, bored. "Like it did you any good."

Daniel clenched his jaw. Jack loved Vala, if only for the fact she annoyed Daniel, which in his book meant she'd been doing the universe a favor by keeping him from getting too smug.

"Anyway, from what I can tell, this could be important. Really important."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "That it?"

Daniel looked uncomfortable. "You need more? I thought you liked it when I cut out all the interesting stuff."

"No, no. That's fine," Jack assured him. "We'll go. Thor! We're going to need a ride!"

Thor nodded his head as Daniel and Sam did their best impression of gaping goldfish.

"Not that I'm complaining, but doesn't it usually take more persuasion than that?" Daniel asked.

"I want these Ori out of my galaxy. You think this might help. We go."

Daniel looked like he wanted to argue.

Teal'c spoke up for the first time. "DanielJackson, I believe it would be foolish of you to argue when you have succeeded in convincing us of the need to visit this planet."

Daniel shut his mouth.

O'Neill wanted to share a smug look with someone, but said instead, "Step on it, Thor!"

Within what seemed like no time at all, they were beamed down onto the surface of a small blue-green planet.

Jack said, "Welcome to Asgard Territorial Planet 865, home to a few rare species of birds, a buried Stargate, and the ever-present, Ancient-produced trees."

Vala bounded down the empty gate platform and took a good look around.

"I think these trees are more blue than usual," she announced.

Sam stifled a smile as Jack grimaced.

Vala had a habit of ruining his punch lines.

"Traitor," he muttered to Sam as they made their way down the path, toward the ruins Thor thought might house something useful.

Sam reached behind him very discreetly with her free hand and squeezed his ass. He yelped and Daniel and Vala looked at him in surprise and no little alarm. Teal'c merely raised an eyebrow. Sam moved away from him, a small smirk just on the corner of her lips.

Jack stared after her two seconds, then cleared his throat and put on his sunglasses. "What are we waiting for? Let's move, people!"

Vala and Daniel shared a look. Teal'c almost smiled.

No, things weren't the same, but at least the universe stood a chance with these people by his side.

Vala might be right about the trees, though.


	2. Canning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set just after Autumn in "Year Two," only I seriously mangled the timeline. This is a scene originally meant for "Year Two" that didn't quite make the cut.

"That's the last of the garden," Jack said, dropping the basket on the counter and crowding Sam out of the way so he could wash his hands at the sink.

"Hey!" Sam exclaimed. "I need to drain this or we won't have dinner tonight." She held a pot of pasta—their last store-bought—over the sink, the steam rising from it and dissipating under the working kitchen light.

"Two seconds," Jack said, and finished, drying his hands on Sam's shirt. She sighed in mock exasperation, but drained the pasta and poured a little olive oil in the pot.

Jack lifted the lid on the other pot on the stove to check it. The smell of tomatoes, peppers, onions, and even some meat wafted out.

"Looks good."

"I didn't touch it, so it should," Sam said pointedly.

"Good girl," Jack said, and lightly kissed her.

"Hmm."

They set up the table, their dinners having become a tradition over the last few months—partly just for something to do, and partly because it was a challenge to make something _normal_ out of their dwindling supplies.

Jack turned off the kitchen light and the generator. It was much easier to cook with electric light, but they couldn't afford to keep the generator on for too long. Sam lit a candle, shaking the match out. They sat down and dished up.

"This is pretty good," Jack said, reveling in the spicy sweet taste of the peppers. Sam nodded her agreement, closing her eyes in bliss.

"All we need is some wine and some French bread," she added after a moment.

Jack raised a finger and wagged it at her. "Don't start. You know we haven't had any wine for three months."

"I know." She sighed and picked up her fork again, dropping her eyes to her plate.

Jack gave her a speculative look.

"Tomorrow we'll finish preserving the vegetables."

"God, I never thought I'd be _canning_," Sam said.

Jack smirked. "Have to admit, it's wouldn't have been one of the talents I picked you for."

"Well, it's not something they teach at the academy, sir."

Jack started at the use of 'sir' from Sam. "Been a while."

Sam dropped her fork onto her empty plate.

"It has."

She stood up and Jack got the impression she wasn't talking about titles or wine anymore. He swallowed the last bite of his dinner compulsively; it still shocked him that this was okay, that that look in Sam's eyes, the one that said, "You're mine, sir"—only without the sir—was allowed.

He set his own fork down. "You know, day after tomorrow, after we finish the canning, what do you say we take some of the extra into whatever serves as the nearest town these days and see if we can't scrounge up a bottle of wine?"

She tugged at his hand and he let her pull him up.

"Whatever you say, sir."

They were heading for the stairs. Jack grabbed the candle before they left it burning on the kitchen table. "I was deluding myself to think you always thought my orders were worth following, wasn't I?"

"I'd never imply such a thing to my commanding officer."

Jack shut the door at the base of the stairs behind them. "Uh huh."


	3. The Notebooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I really, really wanted to include this in "Year Two," but it didn't fit, for oh so many reasons. I guess you'd say this is "Year 2.3," or something like that.

It was December when he found her stash of notebooks, page after page filled with sketches (of a sort—she'd never been talented in that respect), equations, columns of names, Stargate addresses.

There were seven notebooks, college ruled, all meticulously dated.

He was surprised he hadn't seen her using them—he'd thought she spent her time…hell, what had he thought she'd been doing? Besides the obvious survival stuff. And reading. They both had a lot of time for reading.

She must have waited until he was outside—or asleep.

He flipped idly through the top notebook. In between equations and diagrams were large sections of text. Multi-syllabic words that made his brain ache just trying to sound them out. He thought he recognized some of the objects that used to be in her lab from the pictures.

Damn. Why had she hidden this from him?

He looked at the dates. The first notebook was the one on the bottom, and it had a black cover. It began a few months after the Burn started.

It was, more importantly, just a few days after the second group of bandits. The ones they didn't manage to run off.

He flipped through the pages of the first notebook, noticing that the first few were taken up by names on the left-hand side of the page. The right-hand side was almost entirely blank. He got chills as he scanned the list, recognizing names from Sam's conversations and the SGC. By a few names she'd written in "Deceased," and by others she'd written "Off-world, status unknown." Everyone else had either nothing—presumably the ones she didn't know about—or a date written by their name—when she'd last heard from them. He was on the list, with several crossed out words by his name. The first one said, simply, "Alive," and the last, "Minnesota."

The very last name on the list was Sam's own. There was no word written next to it.

After the last page of names, there was a jumbled few pages that seemed to have something to do with the Burn. Jack suspected not even Sam could make anything of the mess of equations and drawings that littered these pages. The last page like this had a giant slash mark through it, and after that there was one completely blank page, and then a page filled with small, neat writing.

"Dear Jack," it began, and Jack snapped the book closed, knowing he'd already invaded Sam's privacy enough for one day. His fingers itched to reopen the notebook, but he ignored the desire, having finally learned his lesson of sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Notebooks didn't seem as formidable as alien repositories of knowledge, but in his opinion, one could never be too careful.

He debated putting the books back where he'd found them, but instead sighed and gathered them up. She'd know something was up as soon as she saw his face, anyway.

He went downstairs, Sam almost but not quite lifting her head at the sound of the door closing behind him, her face buried in a book—one of the thick technical ones she'd picked up on their last supply trip.

"Hey," he said heavily, setting the notebooks down on the table in front of her and taking a seat on the chair next to her couch. "We need to talk."

She looked up, foggy still from her involvement with the information in the heavy volume. She took in his face, and the notebooks in front of her, and he saw her brain finally settle in the here and now.

"Shit," she said. Jack could almost see her go through her list of possible explanations. He loved watching her think, the process clear and visible on her face.

He expected her to be angry with him, but instead of glaring at him or going silent, she sighed, shut her eyes, and looked very guilty.

"Did you…look at any of it?"

"The first twenty pages or so."

She made a noise in the back of her throat, somewhere between amusement and panic. "Did you read the letter?"

He didn't even try to feign ignorance. "Nope. Saw my name, but thought I better make sure you weren't going to kill me first."

A smile flickered across her face. "I always knew you were smarter than you let on." She picked up the first notebook, flipped to the page. "You should read it, I think." She handed it to him, settled back into the couch cushions, closed her eyes.

He read.

"Dear Jack,

By the time you see this letter, I'll probably be halfway to the SGC. You're going to kill me, I know, and you're going to wonder why I didn't tell you or take you with me. Or at least leave the damn note on the table.

I'm sorry.

It's funny, because I always thought you were the one with the largest hero complex. But you seem to be…content here in a way I just can't. Like the screwed-up world no longer has any bearing on your life. I dream at night about every name on my list, how I failed them, and I need to go do something about it. Maybe just find them, I don't know.

I can hear you telling me it's not my fault. Bullshit. I can trace the lines of cause and effect all the way back to my own misguided and egotistical desire to open the 'gate at all costs. I'm a scientist, not a historian, but even I should have known there are some doors better left closed. I've proved it over and over; with the 'gate, with the Replicators and the Red Sun, and I hope I've finally learned my lesson.

Oh, shit, Jack. I don't know how to write this goodbye. I can't tell you what you've meant to me these many years. Thank you for saving me, time and time again.

Love,

Sam"

He kept the notebook open and looked at Sam, who still had her eyes closed, her head resting against the top of the couch. He fingered the paper.

"What changed your mind?"

At that, she smiled. "I kept putting it off—for one reason or another—until the car."

"I _knew_ that was a good move." He realized something. "You were planning on leaving before I got back."

She nodded.

"_Really_ good move." He tried to keep his voice light, but failed.

Sam opened her eyes. "When you drove up in that damn car, I knew I should laugh, but I couldn't. I realized it wasn't me who'd broken the world, but the world that had broken me."

"Philosophical."

They grinned wryly at each other.

Jack sobered. "God, Sam, it would've killed me."

She swallowed, said quietly, "Yeah, well, I know that _now_…"

"Because of the car," he said, feigning stubborn pride.

She sighed. "Yes, Jack. Because of the damn car."

He grinned and leaned over, giving her a small kiss, just barely catching the corner of her mouth.

He settled back in his seat, paying no attention to the amused expression she wore.

He said, "You wanna do something? We have chess, Monopoly, and…oh look! Chess!"

An expression of distaste turned her mouth down. Neutrally, she said, "Actually, I was just in the middle of this chapter. If you don't mind, I'd like to finish it."

"If you must. Anything else interesting in these?" he said, grabbing the black notebook again.

"Well, there are some of my ideas about the spatial mechanics of—"

"Ah!" Jack held up a hand. "I don't know why I ask. Suffice to say—besides the potentially Nobel-winning stuff-is there anything else I should know about?"

He _almost_ caught the flicker of annoyance he knew had to be there when he interrupted her scientific babble. One day she'd break, and he was looking forward to that argument, if only because he didn't think he'd ever seen Sam really angry with him.

"You might stumble across something. I wrote a few things down here and there."

He flipped through a few pages while Sam picked up her book again. After the third non-committal noise from Jack, Sam snapped her book shut.

"Okay! We can play a game. But not Monopoly. And no gloating when you beat me."

He _loved_ that he could beat her at chess.

"I make no promises."

"If you don't gloat, I might consider having sex with you tonight."

Now there was an idea that needed some serious consideration.


End file.
